


Silhouettes

by jazzyo3



Category: The Walking Dead (Telltale Video Game), The Walking Dead (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Pain, Walkers, Walkers (Walking Dead), Zombie Apocalypse, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-08
Updated: 2016-09-08
Packaged: 2018-08-13 20:46:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7985614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jazzyo3/pseuds/jazzyo3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clementine has no choice but to keep walking.</p><p>A written version of the post-credits scene of TWDG Season 1.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silhouettes

**Author's Note:**

> This was actually written like years ago, but I stumbled upon it and realized I'd never really shared it, so I thought I might as well! It's just a short little thing but I thought it'd be interesting to bring the scene to life in a fic. I hope you enjoy!!

It wasn't the blood in her hair that hadn't quite dried yet or the pistol hanging heavy in her hand or the ringing in her ears from the gunshots. It wasn't even the fight to leave the town and make her way to the countryside alive.

  
It was the loneliness.

  
She'd been walking for hours now, stepping on tall stocks of grass and wheat in a wide open field. She knew she was vulnerable out here, but she couldn't really care anymore. Her chances of survival were slim before, but with Lee gone, there wasn't much she could do to protect herself. The only thing by her side was the metal of the gun. Hold your breath. Aim down the barrel. Squeeze the trigger.  
Her chest was tight. Her muscles ached with each s

tep. Picturing him propped against the shop wall, handcuffed and already turning -- it made it hard to focus, hard to think with precision. She couldn't swallow the lump in her throat. Was it really possible to feel this broken?

  
Her clothes were still damp and rotten from the internal organs of the walker Lee had coated her in, and now that there wasn't anything around that she had to pay attention to, the smell was really getting to her. It was foul and the texture soaked to the skin. She wanted to feel thankful for it, to be grateful that she made it through the hoard alive, but she couldn't. She didn't want this. She just wanted to find her parents. And she did.

  
She wondered how Lee was right now. Maybe he didn't turn, or maybe... maybe, on some off chance, he didn't have to suffer with living anymore. She knew the truth, though. He was different now. He was groaning and tugging at his limbs and working his respiratory system to its breaking point. She'd liked to think that what he said was right; that once he turned, it wasn't him, it was just one of them. It was good that she saved a bullet. He loved her, and he'd miss her, and all she had to do was find Omid and Christa.

  
But she couldn't.

  
Telephone pole, barbed wire, dead leaves. It looped for miles. Was she even anywhere near the train station? It couldn't be that far. Maybe she'd gone the wrong direction. Maybe she'd have to turn around and track back the miles to the city. It was hard to have hope at a time like this, but she tried her hardest.

  
For the first time in hours, though, she saw something. It was a tree, bigger than the ones she'd passed before and branching way off to the sides. _Finally,_ she thought. A goal.

  
After picking up the pace and making the last few feet across the field, she was finally there. There was another barbed wire fence and an abandoned, run-down car nearby. She'd looked inside but there was nothing. Someone had already bailed with everything they had.

  
And the tree, it was beautiful. It was the first thing in a long time that towered over her without being intimidating. Duck would love to climb this. It was only until Clementine was tracing her eyes up the branches and across the leaves that she noticed the sun was starting to set over the hills. She couldn't leave now; the dark would be too dangerous in populated areas and she wouldn't be able to see anyway. She'd have to spend the night here.

  
There was a log behind the fence, and when she came closer to it, she found some spilled bullet cartridges. Whatever happened here, it was frantic, and someone left in a hurry. She'd have to keep that in mind, but for now she just appreciated the extra ammo.

  
She sat back and let her spine stretch and relieve from all the walking. Everything hurt, just some things more than others. She'd never gone this long without rest before. She was hesitant to stop, though; she wanted to feel safe.

  
She started to scan the area one last time before she noticed something in the distance -- and it was moving. She jumped up to try and get a better view. She prayed it wasn't another zombie, but she clutched her gun tight in her hands.

  
When she squinted, she could make out a figure. No, two figures -- silhouettes. People. They weren't dragging their feet or staggering like the walkers; no, they were alive, and they were searching.

  
Her heart pounded through her chest and she could feel the beat in her throat. Her breathing sped up, her grip tightened until her knuckles were white. Her mind raced a million miles a minute. Who were they? Were they friendly? Do they have food and water? Were they actually people? Did they know where this place was? Did they know her?  
She didn't know what to do; her foot scooted to move forward but she stayed rooted in place, she opened her mouth to speak but she said nothing. What could she do? What were the circumstances? They had to notice her. No one, nothing else was around. They had to.

  
The figure in the lead came to a stop and seemed to turn, and the second one did the same, but a bit slower. Her heart skipped a beat and her breath caught in her throat.

  
They were pointing.

  
They were looking at her.


End file.
